


The One Where Natasha Drinks Coffee and Gets Her Man (Through No Fault of Her Own)

by silverfoxflower



Series: Everybody Is Douches 'Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Hipsters, Hook-Up, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, she doesn’t choose men for the right reasons very often. Maybe <i>he-owns-a-yacht-they-can-crash-on-for-spring-break reasons</i>, or maybe <i>he-has-a-copy-of-the-SAT</i> reasons, but not like emotionally logical reasons, which is why she’s been running from Sam for so long, she supposes, because he might actually be good for her.</p><p>"You’re a walking romantic comedy cliche," Clint tells her, which is rich, so rich, because he’s in love with with their fucking at-least-40 Chemistry Prof. So.</p><p>"Ha." She says dryly, paying for her coffee (black, two sugars), "Ha. Ha. Hear me laughing? No? Because I’m not laughing because this isn’t funny and I hate you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Natasha Drinks Coffee and Gets Her Man (Through No Fault of Her Own)

**Author's Note:**

> Rundown of this AU: 
> 
> Bucky is a frat douche secretly pining for his best friend Steve
> 
> Natasha is a disenfranchised punk girl trying to drag Steve down into her hipsterness
> 
> Sam's maybe the only normal one in this town
> 
> Everyone are queer, angry feminists and have sex with each other. 
> 
> Warning/spoiler: there's lukewarm Steve/Sharon in this, progressing to an endgame of Steve/Bucky and Sharon/Maria (not in this fic but eventually).

To be honest, she doesn’t choose men for the right reasons very often. Maybe _he-owns-a-yacht-they-can-crash-on-for-spring-break_ reasons, or maybe _he-has-a-copy-of-the-SAT_ reasons, but not like _emotionally logical_ reasons, which is why she’s been running from Sam for so long, she supposes, because he might actually be good for her.

"You’re a walking romantic comedy cliche," Clint tells her, which is rich, _so_ rich, because he’s in love with with their fucking at-least-40 Chemistry Prof. So.

"Ha." She says dryly, paying for her coffee (black, two sugars), "Ha. Ha. Hear me laughing? No? Because I’m not laughing because this isn’t funny and I hate you.”

"Okay," Clint says, throwing her a judgmental glance over the lid of his double whip soy mocha latte with extra chocolate syrup, "But just so you know," He puts a heavy, condescending hand on her shoulder. "Like the supportive, sassy bisexual friend I am, I will inform you that you deserve to be happy." He pays the barista in quarters and filthy crumpled bills while Natasha waits for him, sipping her too-hot coffee with frustration.

—

She texts Bucky to hang out with her in the library as she finishes her Comp Sci assignment, because Bucky’s the only guy she knows who is more clueless at love than her, and therefore apt to make her feel better.

 _K_ , he texts back, which means completely fucking _nothing_ , thanks. She rolls her eyes at her phone and goes back to programming an image compression algorithm.

15 minutes later, Bucky shows up with Starbucks, Steve, and Sam, and Natasha hates him.

She steals Bucky’s chai latte in recompense.

"Hey, what’re you working on?" Sam asks. Natasha has the misfortune of looking in his direction as he _dimples_ and she swallows two mouthfuls of scalding liquid, coughing.

—

"There has to be something wrong with him," Natasha hisses in Steve’s direction, "I don’t just _want to sleep_ with undamaged goods.

Steve shushes her, because he's actually taking notes on their Gender Studies lecture or something and Natasha hates all her friends, officially.

—

She tracks Sam down at a frat party, hanging off to the side and sipping light beer out of a solo cup. _Light beer out of a solo up_ , she marks him down big, and somehow that makes her feel better.

"You and I," She says, putting a hand on his hip, "Should have sex."

Sam looks at her with raised eyebrows then tosses the cup of beer over his shoulder.

—

Goddamit, the sex is great.

—

He makes her come at least three times.

—

Shit.

—

She’s lying in bed, staring at her silent phone when Maria breaks into her room.

"You weren’t at the Pro-Choice rally today," Maria says coolly, impeccable as always in slim-fit black everything. She’s holding a Starbucks cup with a smear of dark purple lipstick on the lip. "Everyone thinks you’re dead." 

"It’s 2 AM," Natasha props herself up on an elbow to glare at her ex-girlfriend. "And you’re a freak.”

"Is this about a _penis_.” Maria’s lip curls. “It is, isn’t it.”

"Uuuuuuuuuugh, get out of my room! You’re being _so_ second wave right now.”

—

Natasha avoids Sam (expertly, actually) three entire times that week. The first time by skipping the bus she was about to take and instead arriving 20 minutes late to class. The second time by ducking under a bush with her lit cigarette when Sam jogs by (she might have set fire to some leaves. She pleads the fifth), and the third time by holding a newspaper over her face as she passes him in the coffee ship. He has his headphones plugged into his laptop and his leg is jiggling really adorably. Natasha rolls the newspaper into a tight coil and hits herself in the face with it before walking out, without her coffee.

Yeah, she’s a motherfucking ninja alright.

By Friday she’s exhausted. Collapsing into the well-worn bar booth at James Joyce feels like the realest thing she’s done all week. Steve smiles at her from over the sticky table. “I ordered you that Amber Lager you like,” he says, and she would’ve kissed him if Sharon wasn’t there.

Steve & Sharon: The Awkward Couple. Dating for 3 months and still sitting a good 5 inches away from each other. Natasha thinks a lot about introducing Sharon to Maria, so that after her inevitable breakup from Steve she’ll still be in the periphery of their friend group. Girl makes a mean margarita.

Beside her, Bucky’s already three light beers into the night and glaring daggers at the table in front of him. Where the gleam from Steve & Sharon’s pretty blond hair just happens to flit every so often. His likewise inability to sit on the dick of his dreams lifts her spirits a little, so when her beer comes, Natasha actually manages to enjoy it.

"Jooooyce trivia," an aggressively bored voice rumbles over the bar intercom, "Pencils and paper at the front. First prize receives $50, second through last prize receives the cloying stench eternal failure. Come one come all."

"The song of my people," Sharon dimples, sliding over Steve’s lap to fetch the materials.

Bucky glares harder at the table.

"I like that girl more and more every time I meet her," Natasha nods in Steve’s direction. A second later, her phone pings.

 _et tu, Bruce?_ from Bucky

 _BruTE you fucking heathen_ she texts back. and _i like her, she’s cute_

An absolutely _betrayed_ gasp from her right.

"So rude nowadays how people are glued to their phones, even when their friends are sitting right in front of them," Steve says softly, into his beer.

"So when’s Clint coming?" Natasha slips her phone into her purse. "He told me his junker was in the shop, but I don’t know whether that was code for he’s sucking Tony’s dick again."

"Well he must be," Steve says dryly, "Because he’s not coming."

"Oh," Natasha makes a face, "Maria? She always writes a fucking _paragraph_ -”

"Hey," a shadow falls over the table. Natasha knows before she even looks up that it’s Sam’s Shadow, and she looks up anyway, because.

Well, because she’s an emotional masochist.

She’s halfway out of the bar before Sam calls her name, halfway down the street before he manages to catch up to her, grabbing her hand, and, okay, she almost does a judo throw on him for that except that he also grabs her other shoulder. And holds her to him. And he smells good.

It’s drizzling lightly.

"My phone broke," he blurts out, "Meant to call you-"

"Save it," she says, tugging herself free. "It’s better this way, believe me."

"I’m serious," he’s still following her, streetlamp after streetlamp. "My new one doesn’t come until tomorrow, and I tried to bribe Bucky to let me use his, but he just asked for something gross, and Steve told me that I should talk to you in person and that also he doesn’t have a phone? Who the fuck doesn’t own a phone? I tried to track you down but you were nowhere this week. And you’re too hipster for facebook, apparently-"

Natasha spins on her heel, raising her index finger. “Facebook. is. evil. It’s how the NSA gets you.”

"Yeah," Sam’s smiling softly, his collegiate sweatshirt splattered dark grey and molded to his shoulders from the rain. They’re standing under a street lamp. It's kind of a Wes Anderson movie. 

Similarly, they kiss like waves crashing in a storm, two trees that have grown towards each other for a millennia, the warm fold of a cupped hand in another cupped hand. One of them is trembling. Natasha thinks it might be her.

Sam makes a sound of loss when she pulls away.

"You’ll regret me," she says unevenly, breath hitching in the damp, "I’ll be bad for you."

Sam smiles. “Promise?”

—

She rides him til that smirk slides off his face and he’s gone for her.

—

Over eggs (yes, he cooks eggs, the heartbreaker), Natasha squints at her phone.

32 missed messages, 30 of which were from Bucky.

"Did they win trivia?" Sam asks, walking over with two cups of coffee and no shirt on. Natasha purrs a little in her chest as he slides a cup over.

"Better," Natasha says, scrolling down. "Maria and Clint showed up. Clint brought Tony. Tony brought Pepper. Oh, dammit! Sharon fucked Maria.”

" _At the bar?_ "

"No," Natasha flaps her hand at him. "Two years ago. Fuck, that’s why we get along so well. Birds of a feather, as it were."

Sam makes an amused noise, digging into his eggs.

"Ha! Mr. Banner passed by the table and said hi, how awkward that must’ve been for Clint."

"I can only imagine."

"Oh, oh,” Natasha makes a face as she puts down her phone. “Poor Bucky.”

Sam sips his coffee. “I think I just learned more about these people in 30 seconds then I’ve been able to in three months.”

"What’s a few dirty secrets between friends?" she says archly, folding her palms over the coffee mug.

Sam smiles at her over the table, like he’s in love or something. It makes a warm place flare to life in Natasha’s stomach.

"What’s that?" he asks, and she realizes that she made a noise.

"Just the best coffee I’ve tasted in a while," she smiles, taking her sip.

**Author's Note:**

> [more fics](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic) can be found on [my tumblr](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com)!


End file.
